Work Text:
It’s not uncommon for Krypto to bring Kon things that need to be fixed.
Krypto spreads his time among the various members of the Kent family, but ever since Kon moved into an apartment by himself, he tends to stick by Kon’s side. He’ll help Clark with fights, let Jon take him on long flights around the globe, and manage the cattle on the Kent’s farm if asked, but at the end of the day, he always returns to Kon’s little one-bedroom apartment to cuddle up for the night.
Kon is honored that Krypto has chosen him to establish as his home base, that is, assuming the dog doesn’t think he needs the extra supervision. With Clark and Lois checking in on him, Jon stopping by to hang out, and getting calls from Ma and Pa, Kon almost feels like he doesn’t live by himself.
And while Krypto is a smart dog, a smart dog with superpowers nonetheless, he doesn’t have opposable thumbs. It didn’t take long after Kyrpto started bunking with him full-time for them to develop a routine.
Krypto trots up to him, dropping a mangled dog toy at Kon’s feet. It’s a small fox plushie with a squeaky tail that Krypto carries around with him a lot—one Kon recognizes because it’s often tangled with the sheets in his bed, as Krypto tends to sleep curled around it. Krypto sits down, looking up at him plaintively.
“Oh, wow.” Kon says with a laugh, picking up the stuffed toy. “You really did a number on this one, huh? Wasn’t this your favorite?”
Krypto barks softly.
“What, boy?” Kon asks. “It’s too damaged to play with.”
Krypto nudges the toy with his nose, looking back up at Kon expectantly. Kon sits on the floor, confused. Krypto obviously wants something, but he isn’t sure what it is. Upon realizing Kon hasn’t figured it out, Krypto huffs, standing to his feet and darting off into Kon’s room. He comes back a few seconds later, dropping the pitiful box of supplies Kon calls his sewing kit in his lap.
“Oh,” Kon exclaims as the realization dawns on him. “You want me to fix it.”
Krypto yips happily, tail wagging as he licks Kon’s face. He giggles, shoving the dog away. Well, thank Rao, for all those sewing lessons from Ma. He evaluates the torn plushie consideringly, glancing up at Krypto and back down again. He wonders if Ma has Kryptonian proof thread.
So after that, it becomes a bit of a habit. Krypto drops something at his feet, sits there, and stares up at Kon until he fixes it. Krypto has brought him a wide variety of things, some things that Kon isn’t sure how the dog broke, and some things Kon isn’t really sure how to fix, but he never expected Krypto to bring him his younger brother.
“Jon?” Kon exclaims, surprise and concern filling his tone as he stares at the little ball of younger brother that is deposited at his feet. Krypto drops the back of Jon’s hoodie from his mouth and sits, staring up at Kon with that same plaintive stare. He wants Kon to fix it. Kon sits down next to his brother on the floor, reaching out and placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder carefully. “Jon, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Jon uncurls a little from the tight ball he’s tucked himself into and glances up at Kon over the edge of his arm, tears in his bright blue eyes. After a few moments, Jon throws himself at Kon, tears falling anew as Kon pulls him into his lap. He tucks Jon against him, wrapping his arms around him protectively as Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck, Kon gently resting his chin on top of Jon’s head.
They sit like that until Jon’s sobs die down, Kon gently rubbing a hand along Jon’s back in an attempt to soothe him. Eventually, Jon shifts, pulling away and wiping at his eyes as he takes deep, trembling breaths. Kon evaluates him as if he could figure out how to help just by staring at him.
“Feeling better?” Kon asks. Jon just nods. “Are you hurt?” Kon continues. There’s a difference if Jon is just upset or if he’s gotten injured.
“No.” Jon croaks out.
“Okay. That’s good. Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s stupid,” Jon says, wiping at his eyes, like he might cry again just because he got upset over something he doesn’t think was worth it.
“It’s not stupid.” Kon rebuts gently. “Anything that’s got you so worked up you had to be delivered via Krypto Express isn’t stupid.”
Jon glances over at the dog, who has lain down next to them. Krypto shifts upon realizing that the attention has turned to him, nudging at Jon’s hand and licking it carefully. It makes Jon smile a little, petting him before withdrawing his hand and settling it back in his lap, the smile falling from his face. Krypto rests his head on Jon's leg while he talks.
“Everything is just a lot right now.” He starts to explain, fidgeting with his hands. “I like helping people as Superboy and hanging out with you and Damian, but I don’t like school. It’s hard to keep friends because I can’t tell people everything, so every time I do make a friend, they eventually get mad at me for keeping secrets. And not a lot of people want to be my friend in the first place because they think it’s weird that I can’t sit still, and my brain works too fast for my mouth, and I have a bad memory, and I like to talk about the same thing for a very long time. Some kids think that the only reason I do well in class is because I get to go to a separate setting for tests, and that I must cheat because I get distracted a lot in class and must be stupid. I can’t explain that I am smart, but my brain is weird, and half the time I can’t think because I can hear someone popping bubble gum three classrooms over, and the noise makes me want to hide in a lead box and never come out again. And—“
“Jon, it’s okay.” Kon cuts in, stopping him from continuing as he starts to notice him getting worked up again. “Just take a second. Breathe.” Kon coaxes gently. He runs a hand through Jon’s hair soothingly, and the kid deflates against him, some of the tension leaving his body. “Now, are you being bullied at school?”
Jon shrugs. “Not really. No one is, like, shoving me into lockers or anything. They just think I’m weird.”
“Everyone’s weird.”
“Yeah, but I’m the bad type of weird. Stupid and different.”
“You’re not stupid.” Kon bopped the top of Jon’s head lightly in reprimand. “Lots of kids have ADHD.”
“Kryptonians shouldn’t even be able to get ADHD.” Jon grumbles.
“Well, no one’s perfect. Just look at me. I was genetically engineered, and I still can’t read words very well.”
Jon shifts, looking up at him in something like awe. “You’re dyslexic?”
“Sure am. Numbers are great, but letters get all wiggly on the page. Kids in my English classes when I was in school thought I was stupid because I read really slowly.”
“But you’re not stupid.” Jon says, puffing out his chest like he might need to defend Kon from someone.
“I know, but kids thought I was weird. Tim is autistic, and he’s one of the smartest people I know. And you can’t tell me that Damian isn’t weird, even though he’s wicked sharp. And did you know Nightwing has ADHD too?” Kon asks, and Jon stares up at him wide-eyed, like Kon had given him the secrets to the universe. “Maybe we can ask him for tips about your ADHD and Tim for tips about overstimulation. They both survived school, so they must have some tricks up their sleeves.”
“Can I drop out early like Tim did? That way I don’t have to go for the whole next 8 years.”
“No, your dad would kill me. And I don’t think Tim would recommend it either.”
Jon pouts a little but relents easily. “That’s okay, I guess. I don’t actually mind school if the kids were less mean.”
“We’re also going to talk about this with your parents.” Kon warns gently. “They can help talk with the teachers and adjust your IEP if we need to.”
“Do we have to? They’re going to make a big deal out of everything, and then everyone’s going to think I’m even weirder because they’re fussing so much.” Jon whines.
“I’ll make sure they don’t go too wild.” Kon promises. “Now, do you want to go talk to Tim and Dick? I’m sure they even have a lead box in the Batcave if you’re still feeling overwhelmed.”
“What if they’re mean too?” Jon asks nervously.
“How about this: if they say anything mean, I’ll personally drop them in Gotham Harbor.” Kon says seriously, and it makes Jon laugh. Kon smiles down at him, glad he’s feeling more like himself.
“Not Damian, though. Sometimes he says things that sound mean, but it’s just his way of showing he cares.”
“If he upsets you, he’s fair game.”
“Okay,” Jon agrees. “Thanks, Kon.”
“Of course, little dude. Anytime.”